Nigeria may not be the world’s best showpiece of democracy and political freedom. But Nigeria can easily win a contest of the country that celebrates democracy related matters most loudly.
Special to USAfrica magazine (Houston) and USAfricaonline.com, the first African-owned, US-based newspaper published on the Internet.
Dr. Chidi Amuta is Executive Editor of USAfrica, since 1993.
65 years of independence. 25 years of uninterrupted democracy after four decades of military autocracy. Democracy Day, the day the military disengaged from direct politics. June 12, thd date the military held and cancelled the best election that annoyed s section of the country. Second anniversary of the installation of the Tinubu administration. We could go on and elongate the list. Each of these landmark occasions is greeted by a roll out of state pomp and pageantry. Traditional rulers and their colourful entourage, dance troubles from all over the country, gala nights that feature music and dancing as well as lengthy foolish speeches about nothing serious!
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Of this gamut of anniversaries and memorials, perhaps the annual October 1st Independence Day is perhaps the most consequential. That is the day the British Union Jack came down and in its opoace was hoisted the new drab green-white- green of independent Nigeria. For those Nigerians in their 60s, that date remains important as a watershed and marker of the emergence of independent Nigeria. Perhapps the only date that could compete with October 1 st is January 15th 1970, the date Nigerian military factions decided to end the civil war they started most senselessly.
This last week’s 65th Independence anniversary was largely forgotten for no clear reason. There were no police and military parades. Schools and colleges marked the event by mandating kids to wear outfits that remind them they are Nigerians and nothing else. But the state looked the other way. A state that seizes every small opportunity to stage a lavish party decided there would be no parade, no gala night or festivities. The usual reasons included a need to save money! A government that routinely buys $1 million a piece SUVs for politicians that already have over 20 limousines in their garages suddenly wants to save money from champagnes and musicians! Anyway, there was no party. The 65th Independence anniversary was largely forgotten or omitted.
There was of course the usual presidential speech and foolish messages from illiterate politicians and hungry clergy of all faiths. The president disrupted the morning sleep of a public holiday with the mandatory speech. I have been phoning round my friends to see what they remember or something quotable or new from this year’s Independence speech. Most have told me it was same as before: the need to rededicate ourselves to the nation, to renew hope, to obey the rule of law if it favours you, to love they neighbor in the night and demolish his house in the day. It was a speech like most others about patriotism, the need to worship as many gods as possible on political occasions and import expensive Marabouts from Mauritania paid in dollars to bury live cows ti ensure yiur opponent loses the next election or catches epilepsy.
Otherwise, the 65th independence was edited out. No military parades. In any case, why parade pot-bellied soldiers who have been outgunned by bandits? Why put on display second hand helicopter gunships bought from the black markets of Libya abd Syria? What is they crash in the heads of well dressed dignitaries and their damsels? The low key 65th anniversary was a wise decision, the wisest by a government that prices Indonesian noodles lower than Ijebu gari.
Those of us in our 60s are entitled to our nostalgia about Independence. We were the Independence generation. We were raised in hope, nurtured in expectation and raised in optimism. The British were eaving. Heaven and earth would be rued by our own brthers and sisters. Fat new lawyers sweating it out in London suits. We rehearsed ad sang ther praises. They would bring on the new Jerusalem. Our mothers wore ‘ankara’ outfits with imprints of the new men of power. Our mothers were ordered to file into the arean in every village to rehearse the songs of freedom. As children, we were drilled on how best to greet our new masters since the whites were leaving.
On the appointed date, we filed out in line to wait at the roadside to greet the new gods. The heat if the sun burnt out tender skins. We sweated like goats about to go to hell. But we were taught patience for those who want good things must learn patience and endurance. Later in the afternoon, the new messiahs sped past, waving absent mindedly at village children lined on bith sides of the road.
Then came the speeches by the politicians. Heaven was coming to earth. Everything we wished for would now come in tenfold. We were handed tiny plastic flags of the infant nation. This was accompanied by grey plastic cups. One teacher from the village school explained the symbolism of the cups. It was the cup of passion of our Lord in the garden of Gethsamene before he gave up the ghost at the execution ground of the crucifixion. With this cup, you children shall always repeat: “It is finished” at the height of every trying moment and your solution shall come delivered.
The festivities of independence came and went. We waited. Heaven did not come. We still went down the hill to the river in search of dirty water. When Papa’s thatvhed roof was leaking, we converged in the corner where the roof was still in tact. Life remained hard. The boys who returned from holidays in the town told worse stories of suffering. The whites had packed and left. Their quarters were abandoned for new black overlords. The refuse dumps piled up. Pot holes came all over the streets. Politicians divided out the plots of the European quarters among themselves and renamed streets after themselves. Wilberforce Avenue became Ogbonnaya Road. McJohnson Street became Uwaezuoke Road.
In anger, our elders from the village sent a delegation to Enugu to ask our parliamentarian what happened to the promises of independence. Our elders on the delegation slept in the open. At daybreak when it was their turn to see our man, a staff in khaki uniform came out of the iron gate of the house, accomaonied by two giant Alsatians. “Oga is not in…” He clamped the gate back shut Our delegation was over. Oh Independence! Where is thy sweetness and the honey of the New Jerusalem?
Nations grow in age grades. When they are young, gthey are heavens of promises. When they arraign middle age, they behave like adults and do the things that make the age grade proud. They grow their economy, make the people rich, build good schools, fix the roads, encourage trade and chase away thieves and criminals. They become Singapore, Indonesia, Malaysia, South Korea and Cyprus. A few more decades down the road, the nations that knock on the doors of a century go two ways. They either ossify and get stiff in the knee, incapable of moving any further. They become, Greece, Portugal, Egypt or Ethiopia. Or they push on as centenarians and stand out in competition to graduate from nations into civilizations: China, India, America, Japanetc.
The hour is near when Nigeria must decide. We have to either cast off the foolishness of drunken middle age or don the armour of dignified adulthood. We will soon get to that crossroad at which nations decide to become wise old men or perennial drunken middle aged jesters. This is the tragic essence of the forgotten 65th Independence anniversary.
